


The Past is Always Present

by Diary



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Bechdel Test Fail, Canon Character of Color, Established Anderson/Sally Donovan, Established Relationship, F/M, Flashbacks, Greg Lestrade & John Watson Friendship, Infidelity, Interracial Relationship, Love, Major Character Injury, POV Multiple, Post-Episode AU: s02e03 The Reichenbach Fall, Post-Season/Series 02 AU, Romance, Sally Donovan & Greg Lestrade Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 04:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6501556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Repost. "Do you have a first name, or do people just call you Diving Pirate Anderson?” Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Past is Always Present

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Sherlock.

“You hate beef stroganoff,” Sally protests. “I’m not making something you hate for what could be our last dinner together.”

“Let me take you out, then,” Anderson says. “That Italian place-”

“Is too expensive. And you hate Italian.”

They come to a red light.

“No, I don’t,” he says. “Their vegetarian-”

“You have three choices: Fish, chicken and dumplings, or turkey stew. If you don’t pick one by lunch, you can spend your night all alone.”

“Sally-”

The light turns green.

“Don’t. I’m not going to argue about dinner all day.”

“We don’t have to argue. You could let me take you out, or fix something you actually like,” he say.

She parks at the crime scene. “I like all three.”

He grabs his kit, and they get out.

Greg Lestrade meets them at the doorway and points. “No witnesses. Possible rape.”

Cursing, Anderson heads towards the victim. “I’ll start. It shouldn’t take too long for the other geeks to get here. How old?”

“Thirty-four,” Greg answers. “Lived with her sister, a stockbroker. She’s in New York, trying desperately to catch a plane.”

“Do you think it could be-” Sally starts.

The sound of a gunshot interrupts her.

She sees Anderson fall, involuntarily screams, drops down beside him, and tries to find the entry point.

“Civilian down! Shots fired! Civilian down!” Greg shouts into his radio.

0

After confirming the blood on her is strictly Anderson’s, Greg keeps one hand on her arm to prevent her from joining the others and begins wiping it off. “Sally,” he gently says, “listen to me: Dimmock is going to take you to the station. You aren’t going to be any help to the investigation right now. And-” He pauses.

“His wife will come to the hospital,” she says. “Sir, I can-”

“Into the car,” he quietly orders.

“He’s a forensic scientist. There were five of us, plus him. Who was the target, sir?”

“I don’t know,” Greg admits. He opens the door. “That’s why I want you to be on your guard.” Getting her into the backseat, he puts the seatbelt on. “I’ll be there soon.”

Closing the door, he tells Dimmock, “Put her in the interrogation room 6, and keep the others away. No one but me and you goes near it. Take precautions.”

0

_“Thinking of jumping?”_

_From the bridge, the new guy looks over. “Yeah. I mean- I learned to dive when I was eight. Whenever I come across a bridge, I always think about diving in, maybe finding buried treasure- and I can’t believe I just told you that. Sorry, um, I’m Anderson.”_

_Sally chuckled. “Sally Donovan. Do you have a first name, or do people just call you Diving Pirate Anderson?”_

0

A ballistics expert shows Greg a diagram. “There’s a house for sale three doors down. Our boy - or girl, I suppose – is likely a sniper. He went through eight windows and a wide angle. I don’t know if he meant to hit Anderson, but the fact he managed to hit anyone is impressive. As for the gun-”

Digging his phone out, Greg says, “Sorry. Thank you. Now, go tell the rest to someone else. I need to make a phone call.”

0

“This is John Watson.”

“Anderson was shot thirty minutes ago. Tell me if you happen to know any snipers who could shoot through eight windows and a wide angle.”

“Greg? Anderson was shot? Where he is? Why wasn’t I…”

0

_“How long’ve you been married?”_

_He sighs. “Eight years.”_

_She looks up from her lunch. “If this isn’t my place, just say so, but-”_

_“I doubt it’ll be a secret for very long. That it’s not a good marriage, I mean. Meredith, my wife, is a lesbian. We’re Catholics, and- I knew going in, but her priest had convinced her that getting married, having children, would cure her. And I used to have some- outdated ideas on homosexuality. Now, eight years later, no kids, and we’re both miserable.”_

_“Again, not really my place, but why do you stay?”_

_He gives a wry smile. “She hasn’t taken it well the few times I’ve suggested a divorce. She’s dead proud of the fact there’s never been a divorce in her family. What about you?”_

_“My best relationship was when I was five years old.”_

0

Sally looks up. “Have you called Dr Hooper, yet?”

Nodding, Greg sits down. “How are you holding up?”

“Just tell me how he is, sir.”

“He’s still in surgery. The bullet hit near his shoulder. Thankfully, it missed his heart.” Sighing, he asks, “Is there anything I can do?”

“Let me get back to work. We still have to solve Ms Dutton’s murder, and I’m not going to let this affect me, Detective Inspector.”

“You’re shaking,” he points out. “Sally, I know this must be incredibly difficult for you. You need to take some time. I still have that fold-up cot in my office, if you want to stay here. Or someone can drop you off at home or the hospital. Don’t worry about Dutton’s case right now. Dimmock’s taken over, and me and the others are looking for who shot Anderson.”

“Hospital,” she murmurs. Shaking her head, she takes a shaky breath. “I just- give me some time in your office, where I know no one will be watching. And then, I’ll decide what I need to do.”

“Okay,” he agrees. Standing up and walking around, he helps her stand and puts his hand on her the small of her back.

“Thank you.”

0

_“If they were to find your body at the bottom of the lake, no one would suspect me.”_

_He grins. “Bodies don’t tend to sink, unless they happen to had concrete or something, and I’m smart enough I have a note implicating you ready to be released should I die under suspicious-seaworthy circumstances. Lestrade doesn’t do diversity hire, Sally. And from what I’ve seen, he’s absolutely devoted to his family. If he thinks you’re sergeant material, and I think you’re sergeant material, that’s two against one.”_

_“I think I’d make a good sergeant,” she protests. “It’s just, that involves a lot more politics. I’m a copper, plain and simple. I help catch rapists and murderers and drug dealers.”_

_“That’s crap, and you know it. You can do loads more as Sergeant.”_

_“I can vandalise your dinosaur action figures, you know.”_

_“Meredith would if she could. I keep them in an automated lockbox most of the time.”_

_“Seriously?”_

_He gives her a look._

_“I’m afraid of burning out,” she confesses. “I can handle the grisly things, but lying to the public, always having to defend myself against the accusations, dealing even more with the thinly veiled racism and sexism- I don’t know if I can.”_

_For a long moment, he’s quiet. Then, he reaches over and squeezes her hand. “You’re one of the best mates I’ve ever had. You ever need anything, big or small, call me. I’ll meet you at two in the morning so that you can cry on my shoulder if you need to, okay?”_

_Before she can respond, he continues, “Take the exam, Sally. I have a bet with Toronto, my abelisauridae, that you’ll make DI by the time you’re forty.”_

_She laughs._

0

“Where’s Sergeant Donovan,” John asks.

“Hospital. One of the officers is with her.”

Kneeling down, John withdraws his gun and empties it. Cocking it, he aims and moves slightly every now and then.

“One shot,” he says. Squeezing the trigger, he asks, “No casing?” At Greg’s headshake, he explains, “Some units have the shooter pick them up. It becomes automatic.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have a list of those units?”

“I can get one within in an hour,” John answers. He reloads his gun. “A person doesn’t shoot like this without a target. But unless they had very advanced technology, the shooter couldn’t have known who was in the room. He or she couldn’t have known anyone was in the line of fire, with the possible exception of the victim you came to investigate.”

“Jesus,” Greg mutters. “If Anderson’s in critical condition because some psychopath decided to play shoot the dead body-”

John stands up fully. “Thank you for calling me. If there’s anything else I can do, don’t hesitate to call again.”

0

_He breaks the kiss. “Sorry- I-”_

_“I saw,” she answers, “and I didn’t move away.”_

_Nodding, he looks down. “I’m not in love with Meredith, don’t think I have was, really, but I do love her. If she’s determined to stay, I’m not going to-”_

_When he doesn’t continue, she asks, “You aren’t going to leave her, or we’re going to walk away and ignore what just happened?”_

_“I’m not going to leave her.”_

_Taking a steadying breath, she reaches over. “We always use condoms, and we never do anything in your bed. I know I’m probably going to wake up one morning and hate myself, but the thought of us walking away hurts too much.”_

0

Sally sits on the bench with her hands clasped. Only family is allowed in ICU. Mrs Anderson is on her way back home, but it’ll be a few hours before she can get there.

“Sally Anderson?”

Blinking, she looks up for the source of the accented voice as she tries to figure out if it’s Welsh, Irish, or Scottish. A ginger doctor with a leg cast, a patch of gauze on his left cheek, and a pair of crutches is standing in the doorway to the ICU unit.

Standing, she answers, “I’m Detective Sergeant Sally Donovan.”

Tilting his head, he says, “Ah. Mr Anderson hasn’t regained consciousness, but he talks in his sleep. He was asking for ‘Sally’.”

“How is he? Can you tell me? Please?”

Giving her a sympathetic look, he responds, “My injury’s acting up. Let’s go to the cafeteria, get some coffee, and I’ll fill you in.”

Nodding, she follows him and automatically reaches over to open the door when they get there.

“Hot chocolate donut and a latte with milk and whipped cream?”

“How did you-”

“Sorry. Dysfunctional family,” he explains with a slight smile. He manages to dig his wallet out. “Didn’t believe in talking about anything important, and so, I learned to read people. Not to brag, but I’m rarely wrong.”

“I’ll pay,” she says.

“You don’t have your purse,” he points out. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it.”

Once her order and a plain tea for him arrive, they sit down. “I’m not a surgeon,” he tells her. “Neurological addiction is more my area, but according to Mr Anderson’s chart, the attending is cautiously optimistic.”

Sighing, she grips her cup. “Thank you.”

“How are you handling this, Sergeant?”

“He’s a forensic scientist,” she exhales. “It should’ve been me or my D.I. or any of the other officers in the house.”

“Typical reaction."

Something about his words- she finds herself looking up.

“Sorry,” he says. “Most of the people I help aren’t exactly-” He makes a vague motion with his hands.

“I understand,” she says. “Sorry, I just realised: I didn’t catch your name.”

“Most people call me Locke.” He offers his hand. “My name’s Sigerson Hamish Wilder. I did mention the dysfunctional family, didn’t I?” When Sally’s through laughing, he continues, “Without saying anything to incriminate myself, I have a talent for lock-picking.”

She sighs. “Thank you for being kind.”

“I’m not judging you, and I’m probably never going to meet Mrs Anderson. If I did, it wouldn’t be my place to say anything. But you’re more than just colleagues, aren’t you? More than just close friends?”

In truth, she wouldn't be surprised if Meredith Anderson didn't somehow already know, and this doctor truly seems simply curious rather than judgmental. He's probably the only one she can talk to unless she wants to find a different stranger and confess everything to them. At least, he seems to already have some idea and is the one bringing it up. 

“It’s okay,” she says. “I judge me. He judges himself. The thing is, however wrong it is, I think he’s the love of my life,” she confesses. “If I could switch places with him, I would in a heartbeat. If he doesn’t make it- I don’t know how I’m going to manage.”

“There you are!"

She jumps slightly, and an offficer rants, “You can’t just disappear! Detective Inspector Lestrade would have my badge if something were to happen to you. Who’s this?”

“Doctor Locke to Neurology, Doctor Locke to Neurology,” the intercom says.

“That’s me.” He stands. “Take care of DS Donovan, Sergeant.”

Then, he gives Sally a small smile. “I’m optimistic, too.” Leaning down, he kisses her on the forehead. “See you around, Sally.”

0

_“I won’t give her any personally identifiable information, but when she comes back, I have to tell Meredith. This has to end.”_

_“I know.” She takes his hand. “Stay with me until she comes back. We can have one last night together.”_

_Both their phones chirp._

_Reading the text, she tells him, “Get your kit. I’ll drive us. What do you want for supper?”_

_“We could go out,” he suggests._

_“No, I’m going to cook,” she says._

_“What about beef stroganoff, then?”_

0

There’s a knock on the door.

Getting up, Greg opens it. “Hello, John. Grab a chair from outside and come in.”

Seeing Sally asleep on a cot, John says, “Oh. Is this a-”

“She took a sleeping pill. Come in.”

Once the door’s closed, John withdraws a package. “Someone delivered this anonymously to Mrs Hudson about an hour ago. I brought an extra pair of gloves if you need them.”

Putting them on, Greg opens the package. “Sebastian Moran,” he reads. “Ex-military. Sniper. You think this could be the man?”

“Look on the fifth page.”

“Moriarty,” Greg breathes.

“We might all be in danger. I’ll risk it, but I want Mrs Hudson put under protection.”

“Of course,” he agrees. “I’ll put a warrant out for Moran. I doubt we’ll be able to find him, but it’s worth a try.” He sighs. “Do you think it was Mycroft?”

“I don’t know,” John answers. “When he gets back from Jersey, I’ll try to contact him. I’m not even sure if we can trust this, but you have to admit, Moriarty, whether dead or missing, would do something like this. Target people Sherlock was in close contact with.”

“Yeah, but he despised Anderson,” Greg muses. “Sally, I could understand. I always thought he was fond of her in his own way, and I suppose others might see that, too, but Anderson?”

“Aside from the warrant, what’s the plan?”

“I’ve got Anderson under protection, and I’m going to send someone with you and to Mrs Hudson’s and Molly’s,” he answers.

0

Releasing Anderson’s wrist, Sherlock digs a dinosaur figure out of his pocket. Setting it down on the nightstand, he says, “Prove you aren’t useless, Anderson. Don’t die.”

“Holmes?” Anderson slurs. He blinks blearily.

“Don’t you read the papers? Sherlock Holmes is dead. Go back to sleep. Sally will be back in the morning.”

“Sally,” Anderson sighs before falling back asleep.

0

_“I love you.”_

_“I don’t want to-”_

_Grabbing her hand, Anderson says, “You don’t have to say it back. I know this is a horrible situation. But I love you, and if there’s one thing I could change-”_

_“Don’t,” Sally says. She leans over to kiss him. “The past can’t be changed.”_  


End file.
